Superhuman expectations

Published
4:00 am PST, Friday, January 23, 2004

IT MAY NOT be fair that Howard Dean's roll-up-the-sleeves, let-'er- rip, let's-go-crazy exhortation to supporters in Iowa is being cast as the defining moment of a campaign that was preceded by hundreds of days of hard, often tedious work.

Yet it may well become his "Muskie moment," a reference to Edmund Muskie, whose 1972 campaign dissolved after he reportedly wept in public over an insult to his wife in a newspaper editorial. One of the cruel truisms of politics is that you know you're in deep, deep trouble when the late-night comedians introduce your name with a roll of the eyes -- and the laughter begins.

Such is Dean's predicament today.

No one ever said presidential politics was fair. Candidates encounter almost unimaginable stress, scrutiny, demands and pressure to respond to crises with steadiness and speed.

Yes, it is a bit like being president.

In truth, the fallout from Dean's Iowa scream-fest has been severe enough to threaten his candidacy only because of pre-existing doubts about his temperament. Somewhere along the line, the very attribute that seemed to fuel his insurgent campaign -- his expressions of passion and genuine anger at the direction of the country under President Bush -- crossed a line. His charged persona stirred excitement among some voters, but uneasiness among others.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," a politician might complain, rightly. The near-robotic veneer of Al Gore was roundly criticized in campaign 2000 as a lack of authenticity. Gray Davis kept his emotions so tightly in check that almost no one in the political world felt close to him, and few Sacramento Democrats shed tears on his behalf after the governor's humiliating recall.

Fairly or not, Americans want and expect their leaders to possess an inner sonar that guides them to a perfect pitch of calm, empathy or inspiration at any critical moment. They want their leaders to be human, but not too human.

Dean's caucus-night outburst was not the first time his public actions have raised eyebrows. On several occasions, he seemed to have been knocked off stride by hecklers, becoming visibly flustered or angry.

Test of temperament is part of the reality of politics -- and it is applicable to the traits required of a president. A presidency cannot be mapped out with position papers. It is a daily trial of a leader's ability to respond to pressure and unanticipated events.

Dean's admirers are aghast that temperament has eclipsed his platform as the issue of the day. After all, he was the one who put the spine in the Democratic field by showing that an unflinching challenge to the Iraq war and President Bush's domestic policies would resonate with voters.

Dean's in a tight spot now, as underscored by his restrained campaign appearances in New Hampshire. If he overdoes the emotion, he risks playing to caricature. If he is overly subdued, he looks defeated.

It may not be fair to put such a premium on temperament. But it should not be surprising to Dean, or any other candidate who has done his homework on presidential politics.

Muskie forever insisted that the "tears" on his face were drops of melting snow. But his campaign never recovered from the notion that a politician who could not handle an insult from the editor of the Manchester, N. H., Union Leader was not the best choice to stare down the Russians in the Cold War.